


Naked

by akane42me



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-29
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:31:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akane42me/pseuds/akane42me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the surface, it was just a little survey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked

**Author's Note:**

> Written in April 2007 for a mfuwss beta challenge.

NAKED

It seemed like a good idea at the time. A quality survey, you could call it. To find out what worked, what they really liked. 

It had been a hell of a year. The Middle East. Biafra. China. Viet Nam. Greece. Bolivia. On and on. The budget was tighter than a nun's chastity belt. No money for new toys for the unforeseeable future and he had to cost justify everything. Simpson, from Section Eight, needed data, gathered from Section Two, to support his funding requests. 

But field agents were...well, it was hard to get their attention unless you pointed a gun at them, or blew something up. A survey had to catch their interest, and be easy to fill out. He needed a gimmick. 

It came to him at lunch, while he perused his copy of the new book everyone was talking about, 'The Naked Ape'. The cover was a picture of the nude backsides of a man, woman and child. Eureka! He had his gimmick!

First, he photocopied the book cover. Next, he cut away the woman and child, shrunk the man to 3 x 5, and printed it on postcards. Finally, he printed the survey on the flipside:

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

This is a Field Equipment Survey.   
Respond Immediately.   
Return to Section Eight.   
Thank You.

I feel naked without my ______________________________

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

  
It was an attention getter, all right! He routed the cards through the office mail. 

Expected answers like guns, gadgets, and communicators came back, but an alarming number of replies were unusable. Damn field agents. 

There were prank replies. Donovan said 'blanket'. Who did he think he was, Linus? Slate said 'hat'. Was that supposed to be funny? And 'lipstick', from Dancer. Why would she give him a hard time? Then again, maybe she meant the lipstick with the knockout drug in it. 

There were juvenile replies. 'My big fat long gun' was the least offensive. 

From Kuryakin - 'clothing'. When Kuryakin appeared in the lab yesterday, he pulled him aside and demanded an explanation. Literal response, my ass. Well, at least Kuryakin had promised to fill out a new card. 

Somehow, Dr. Theobald found out about it. He wanted to see the results, and when Simpson said no, Theo, that prick, raised a big shrinky-stink with Waverly. Waverly got printouts and sent them to Theo and Cutter.

Now the agents were giving him threatening looks, and some of them had gone so far as to mutter rude things as they passed him in the hall. Not the little sarcasms they tossed his way when something backfired or didn't come off quite as planned, but out-and-out insults. Because Theo was making calls. To the agents, about the survey. It was blown all out of proportion. Waverly called a meeting.

The first volley came from Mr. Waverly. "This survey is most unprofessional. Simpson, you are a scientist, are you not?"   
Simpson gripped the stack of response cards, protecting them. "It is scientific, sir! But there had to be a gimmick," he sputtered. Waverly raised an eyebrow at him.   
"They don't like to fill out forms," Simpson offered.   
Waverly frowned. "That is evident, judging from the quality of the responses." 

Ironically, it was one of the more thoughtful answers that started the shouting match. 

'Partner'. 'I feel naked without my partner'. From Solo. 

Theobald was practically salivating, the prick.   
"Please, sir. Dr. Theobald is reading too much into this. It's a spontaneous response," Simpson protested. "It doesn't mean a thing!"   
"In your dreams," answered Theo. "It always means something. I can't begin to tell you how serendipitous this is."   
 _"But you'll try,"_  thought Simpson resignedly.  
Theo continued. "This is an excellent way to glimpse into the minds of people who normally never let their guards down!" He turned to Mr. Waverly for support. "I only want to follow up with a few of them." Waverly snorted, and waved Theo off. 

Cutter was indignant. He asked, "What the hell kind of survey is this? They don't need anything by the time I'm done with them. I take away their weapons - they become the weapon!"   
Attempting to placate Cutter, Simpson began, "You're taking it the wrong -"  
But Cutter cut him off. "And what the hell are you doing putting a naked man on this in the first place? We have a logo, you birdbrain!" 

Next, Cutter turned to Waverly. "He feels naked without his partner? I was against pairing them up from the start. What did you think was going to happen after all these years, all the time they spend together?"

"And you!" Cutter hurled his report at Theo. "You won't be happy until you get them all to tell you they want to get naked with their partner, or their mommy, and I'm not going to - " 

"Jules. Enough." Waverly, rose from his chair, reached over and clamped one hand on Cutter's shoulder. With the other, he gave the round table a spin, so the reports at Theo's place now rested before him. He picked them up. "Dr. Theobald, you will speak to no one about this." He looked to Cutter and Simpson. "That applies to you two as well."

"But I already scheduled - " Theobald's protest died in the air as Waverly punched a button on the console behind him and the doors to the conference room slid open. 

"Cancel, Doctor. Gentlemen, this meeting is over," said Waverly. "And Simpson? Leave the cards."

***

"Did Mr. Waverly find you?" Illya looked up from his paperwork. "What's the matter? You look like you lost your best friend."

Napoleon shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "Not quite. Here - " He fished his survey card from his pocket. "You might as well see this."

Illya read the response and tilted back in his chair, silent, appraising Napoleon. 

"They killed Simpson's little survey. And Mr. Waverly had me over the coals for this. I hope you're not embarrassed." 

"On the contrary, I'm honored, Napoleon." 

"I should have said my gun or something like that." Napoleon realized that Illya had not moved. "You're looking inscrutable." 

"I was thinking of my response."

"Which reminds me, I have your card. You should be proud. Mr. Waverly used it as an example for me to follow next time, if there ever is one." Napoleon pulled the card from his inside pocket and gave it to Illya. He smiled at his friend and tipped his hand to his brow. "Clothing. I salute your common sense." With a little bow, he departed.

For a moment, Illya sat in his chair and tapped the card lightly with a fingertip. "Common sense, indeed," he mused aloud, and stood up and flipped it into the waste-basket. He stared down at it, and put his hand in his pocket and extracted the card he'd redone for Simpson, but had decided not to turn in. He looked at what he'd written. 'Partner.' Then he tore the second card into tiny bits and sprinkled the flakes of his pride into the trash. 

The End


End file.
